Glance
by warmfuzzies
Summary: [Oneshot] Everyday, at the very least just once, they passed each other...


**A/N:** Hey all. First Harry Potter…anything, actually. Written in one sitting. Just a mere drabble in an attempt to delve into these two's characters just a bit. I don't mean it to be a Draco/Hermoine kind of thing, but this worked well using them since they're complete opposites. Please be kind. I know there are tons of really good HP fics out there, but here is my attempt to add to the masses.

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Everyday, at the very least just once, they passed each other.

Be it in the halls, the stairs, outside, changing classes or in the dining hall.

And each time they would exchange a glance. It was quick, over in a second, and then forgotten completely.

She sometimes walked alongside Harry and Ron, but most of the time she would be hurrying off, books clutched in hand, to class.

He would be walking commandingly between Crabbe and Goyle, or tramping sedately along by himself, black robes swishing, in no hurry to make it to anywhere.

There was a line clearly drawn between them. In fact, if it was any clearer, the line would appear in thin air – bold and black and final.

She was smart, good and kind and loyal. A Gryffindor.

He was devious, malicious and cruel and arrogant. A Slytherin.

That much was obvious to everyone and anyone. Even if the two hadn't been unspoken mortal enemies, they would never have gotten along. They did not run in the same circles, have the same morals or principles, or prepossessed the same loyalties.

Those who fancied the impossible might spout the phrases, "Love is blind" or "The difference between hate and love is a fine line" or "Opposites attract."

But the truth was - it wasn't, it isn't and they don't.

Except when they passed each other.

When they were both walking at their own brisk or lazy pace, intent on going their own way or no way.

He would look up, or she would look up and it seemed that was that.

Some days he might even sneer at her or her face would reflect disgust.

Mutual hate, and if not hate, then a large overwhelming, all encompassing dislike. The only thing they had in common.

Anyone who happened to catch the glance exchanged between the two would think nothing of it.

But eyes aren't very good at lying. Even the best of liars are betrayed at some point by these odd entities.

No matter under how many layers of deceit, or cruelty, or rock hard meaness that Draco covered himself with, he couldn't change a simple fact.

That deep down inside he was scared. Of his father. Of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Of what he might have to do if he became a Death Eater. He was even scared of Potter.

But he buried himself underneath false pretensions so large he could bury half of the Wizarding World with them. And he told himself that, for now, that was good enough. Stupid Potter would get his. Everyone, especially those Muggles and Mud Bloods would get what they deserved.

And he never acknowledged that tiny feeling inside him, so far down that even he was never aware of it truly. The feeling that he, too, would get what he deserved one day- and a whole lot more. There was another feeling too, one that was even smaller and quieter than the other one. A feeling that could only be born from that good, no matter how small, inside of us all that Dumbledore keeps insisting upon. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, he was fighting for the wrong side.

He just couldn't win though. He was scared.

She was scared too. Except she hardly even knew it. At least, she pushed it down and aside, to that dark corner she always stowed away unwelcome things that wouldn't disappear of their own accord. She wasn't scared in the same ways he was though.

She was renowned for her intelligence. And she was proud of it. There was safety in facts, in numbers, in hard set knowledge, in perfection. Safety she could count on, could hide behind, could spout out at the drop of a hat.

She was afraid for her friend Harry, who she knew would have to face Voldemort one day, and no amount of her knowledge could really help him.

She was afraid of being forgotten. It had happened in the Muggle world, where she had faded into the background so easily. And when she had discovered she was to be a wizard, she had been ecstatic. Finally, she could do something wonderful, prove herself, be noticed.

She was afraid of being alone. And nowadays, although the bond between them could never be severed, the Dream Team had been drifting apart. It was just a result of circumstance, the way things were right now. Harry was retreating inside himself more often these days, ever since he found out he was the Chosen One. She didn't know what was wrong with Ron, but he was starting to get reckless. It was probably just a phase, but she just knew that blunderhead was going to stupidly kill himself one day. Probably die from choking to death on a grape or something equally romantic. Her close friends weren't around anymore, and even though she got on with Ginny and some of the other girls, she didn't exactly spill her heart out to them. Come to think of it, she hardly spilled her heart out to Ron or Harry. Things were just unspoken between them, but they felt and acknowledged them. That was why they were so close. They didn't have to say half the things they could have said, because they all knew.

She was afraid of the things she didn't know. There was just so much. She kept learning, kept reading, kept asking questions, but this goal would always be an infinity beyond her reach and more. What you don't know can hurt you. And the overwhelming expanse of what she didn't know seemed to envelope her sometimes, making her feel as small and insignificant as she really was in the whole grand scheme of such things as time and history.

She was afraid that one day, she might make the wrong choice or falter at the critical moment. That what she contributed to this world would not be enough.

But in everyday life, in normalcy, these things were pushed away. They didn't seem important under scrutiny in the light of day. Her intelligent eyes seemed to belay nothing but assurance, of confidence and well practiced perfection.

However, it was in those seconds when their eyes met, when brown met grey in a clash. When two who spent their whole life perfecting the appearance of perfection that they met their match. In that sudden moment, they saw beyond each other's defenses. Saw in each other something different but remarkably the same. Because it was the fears, and emotions just mere cousins to their own.

They weren't wholly aware what they saw, or what they subconsciously realized. It was like a like tap, a small zap, and then disregarded. But it built a silent strange respect between the two. One they didn't even know existed but felt all the same.

Perhaps some phrases are so often repeated to become clichéd because they ring true.

_Light and darkness cannot exist without the other._

But then, perhaps the sound these truths make is just a hollow echo.

It doesn't change things though. Doesn't change the facts that are set in stone.

That the Earth spins around the Sun. That people live and die each day.

_But sometimes, there are exceptions to the rules. _

Everyday, at the very least just once, they passed each other.

And they saw.


End file.
